Lyrics:
no paper work
300 k my paper work just like the new boys I'm a jerk
You bring your girl you'll finish her
Cause like R. Kelly I'm a flirt
I got
She don't know money so she callin' you rich
You ain't got game so you fall for the shit
Spend it all in this bitch 'til it's gone and she split
Now
and I make sense, you stay back at my tele'
We was chattin' 'til mornin', the vibrations was heavy
I wasn't drownin' or yawnin', that's when I told you
wetter baby
Wetter
The way I'm drippin got you thinkin that it's stormin
It's wetter baby
It's pourin
And we'll be freakin til like six in the mornin
It's
the mornin'
I'll be back in the mornin'
She steady tweakin' off whatever you call it (tweak, tweak)
She flocky, flocky on whatever you call it (yeah)
Lil'
Now, can I rock it? Yes, you can
If she pretty, I'ma come around your city
I'ma hunt her down, I'ma hit it, I'ma come around and rock it
Can I rock
Your hair back down there
One fine mornin', gonna pull up stakes
I'm gonna chalk it all up as just a bad mistake
Gonna hit the decks runnin' bid
I could make it bump like this
See, I told y'all, y'all was gonna jump like this
How you not gon' know it when it hit like this?
Ladies, drama,
it on me
I want it I'm on it, I'm on it
By the way she lookin at me
I want her from dawn until mornin
cnyway she wanna have it
I want it I'm on it
just honest)
Gotta go and get it if you want it
Takin' drugs, we up to the mornin'
(To the mornin' time)
Fuck that money, buy her what she wanted
(Buy
Show me your wild side
Stick out your back side
Come on, arch that phat behind
R. Kelly, let me see you wind
Show me your wild side
Stick out your
(Get dirty)
[R. Kelly]
Roll up on dem wheels again
Hop up out the whip again
Fuckin' wit them chicks again
In the club Kellz on the scene again
as Vanilla Ice's son
And walk around the rest of my life spit on
And kicked and hit with shit every time I sung
Like R. Kelly as soon as "Bump and Grind"
the verses]
Even though what we do is wrong...
We still hustle 'til the sun come up
Crack a 40 when the sun go down
It's a cold winter
Y'all niggaz
Doug E., as me and the boy Kelly
With the suicide doors, fuck 'em all
We got hits like a thirty shot clip
When we throw it in the air, everybody hit
can go b**** for b****, got a pretty young thing
That I keep by my hip, like my celly that rings
[R. Kelly]
Meeting Michelle at the hotel
While
the hood
Huggin? the block till wee hours in the mornin?
Shot out to my sexy girls who know how to put it on
So they lookin?
Yeah, I'm chillin? with my
Steal the phone out of your Gucci
Imma do, do this
Poppin' off like an Uzi
And hit it, hit it, hit it, hit it 'til we get woozy
(Okay)
'Til we get
to myself
I got new rules, I count 'em
I gotta tell them to myself
Practice makes perfect, I'm still tryna learn it by heart (I got new rules, I count 'em)
as Vanilla Ice's son
And walk around the rest of my life spit on
And kicked and hit with shit every time I sung
Like R. Kelly as soon as "Bump and Grind"
to his best friend Derrick bare-naked
Jig-a-jig-ji-ji-Janeane just turned sixteen and used a fake ID
To sneak in VIP to see R. Kelly, hee-hee-hee-hee
All the ladies in the club (Send on!)
It's your boyfriend would you wine for me
All the ladies in the club (Sean-A-Paul)
Would you wine for me (R
Fingers eating gumbo 'til the mornin' moon
Oh!
Hit me with it again, I'll tell ya one time
You can tell by the way that I hold my spoon
I'll be slurping
Aye look
Hellcat cold yeti
I'm rated R No Kelly
I'm out the trap like Freddy
We about the wap like Fetty
Watch your back before you play me
Don't
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